Defenses Down
by Truthful Blasphemy
Summary: Party and Korse, all alone, no weapons, and no gas. What's going to happen?  NO SLASH!


**Truthful Blasphemy is back in business, BABY! Welcome back to the zones, little dustchildren. Pieces of this story are slightly unrealistic according to the Killjoy world, but it's a prompt given to me by the lovely _Kaito x Len - Banana Split. _The prompt was a scene between Party and Korse with no fighting, and maybe some bonding time.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE KILLJOYS, MCR, OR THEIR AFFILIATES!**

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><p>The motorcycles sped towards each other. Either rider was playing a very deadly game of chicken. Both were determined to relieve the other of his life. But death was not an option. As they were about to collide head on, they broke away, skidding across the ground. Both of the men's guns fell out of their holsters and skittered across the desert road. Korse jumped back on his bike and drove off, clouds of dust spinning off the back wheel. Party Poison followed. The rest of the Killjoys watched, their eyes falling on the weapons left so callously on the ground.<p>

"What's Party going to do when both the bikes run out of gas?" Fun Ghoul asked, turning to his two friends.

"I don't know, but he'll contact us when he needs help. Korse is equally defenseless. Let's go home for now," Jet Star suggested. The two other men nodded and got into the dirty Trans Am, turning on Route Guano and heading off to the lonely gas station where they lived.

SOMEWHERE AT LEAST FORTY MILES AWAY, NEAR A CLIFF

The motorcycles ran out of gas nearly at the same time, near the edge of a cliff. There was a small group of trees off to the side, and as soon as Party realized he had forgotten his gun, he leaned his bike against one of the trees. He sighed, running a hand through his dirty cherry red hair. Korse had noticed the same lack of weaponry, and sat idly on the dirt ground. Night was falling, and a chill was creeping through the air. Party laid down, leaning his head back on his crossed arms. "So what now? We can't fight, unless you want to start throwing punches," Party said, looking over at his enemy.

"I'd rather not. It's not a gentleman's way to fight," Korse snorted. He sat next to the killjoy, sighing heavily with every movement. Both men pulled their jackets tighter around them to ward off the night's cold.

For a while neither made a move to harm the other, and neither broke the stifling silence. They breathed slowly, barely noticing the others presence until Korse spoke. "I have my reasons for joining Better Living Industries and their efforts, Party Poison."

"How could anyone have a _reason_ for depriving the world of color and feeling?" Party snapped, not in a good mood after all that had happened. Korse sighed.

"Are you in love, or have you ever been in love?" Korse asked. Party whipped his head around, facing the other man. A glare dominated his now-stony features. Party's eyes narrowed dangerously at the bald exterminator. Slowly, the killjoy raised himself to a sitting position.

"I was, but you took her away from me," the red-head snapped. Korse's look softened to one of near camaraderie, it made the rebel uncomfortable. It made him want to squirm.

"I still am. Before the fires started, my wife...my beautiful wife," Korse trailed off before regaining his composure and continuing, "Well we weren't going to last very much longer together. But after the bombs, and everything crashing down, Better Living offered to let us be part of a test round of subjects. The pills made her forget our fights. We were happy together. We went back to being the way we used to be. I wanted to keep that, and I got more and more involved in the company and their plans. I though that ridding the world of people like you would protect my family, and the happiness we had. I didn't think about the fact that I was destroying the same thing I was trying to keep. Now I'm their lead exterminator. I should have died a long time a go too...but they saved me with machinery. I'm a cyborg, Party Poison, I'm not even _human._ I want out of this whole big mess."

"My wife was killed by a Draculoid back when the killjoys were first forming. She didn't even have a codename," Party said, eyes tearing up at the memory of Lindsey. You took my daughter back to BLI and I haven't seen her since. My beautiful baby. You brainwashed everything I had in this world!"

"I'm so terribly sorry. Maybe from now on, we should try fighting less often," Korse suggested.

"No, we can't just stop this. We have to fight fair until we die. Understand? This is for our cause, not for personal vendettas." Party said firmly. He shook his hair out of his face and looked into the distance. He grabbed his walkie-talkie from his belt and sent a coded message to the Fabulous Four.

ONE HOUR LATER

"This should be enough gas to get you back to Better Living," Party said, shaking Korse's hand. The other three men looked on in shock from the safety of the Trans Am. "And thanks for the new gun. Our truce ends the next time we meet in combat."

"No problem. I can't wait to kill you," Korse smiled, hopping onto the bike and riding off. Party smiled and got into the car.

"What _happened _tonight?" Kobra Kid asked, looking at his brother in shock.

"Not everyone at Better Living is a sociopathic terrorist to freedom," Party said, slowly drifting asleep in the back of the moving car.


End file.
